Chance Meeting

July 18, 2017:

In which Isa Reichert literally bumps into Agent Nakano Rin.

The Triskelion - New York City

The Headquarters, Armory and Fortress of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics division is, for the most part, an unassailable tower in the midst of the diplomatic sprawl that is Midtown East. The primary intelligence clearing houses and most of SHIELD's senior leadership are all housed hear, along with a veritable army of agents and staff to keep the place running, the world spinning and the weirdness at bay.

Characters

NPCs: Mikhail Nikolayevich Makarov

Mentions: Tony Stark

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

It's late evening over the city, and with the last fading light of the sun, the formation lights of aircraft are visible in the night sky. Specifically, they belong to quinjets, the wonderfully advanced aircraft employed by SHIELD. They depart and leave the Triskelion, transporting agents to wherever it is they need to be at a given time to do their jobs. Some fly to European countries. Some are returning from Eurasia. Still others depart to the Far East, or the Polynesias, or even Australia…

Anywhere there is a SHIELD presence in the world, these sleek little aircraft with their helicopter-like agility are visible.

Tonight, one is visible as it descends neatly for a landing over the facility's small airstrip. When its door opens, a number of SHIELD agents disembark to debrief or decompress after their duties. The aircraft stays on the airstrip a while more, though, taxiing over to be swarmed by a team of flight crew and mechanics.

The pilot finally disembarks, shuffling over to the Triskelion proper with the air of the utterly exhausted. With such a heavy uniform and a combat helmet on over the head, it's hard to say just who the pilot is — only that they're of average height, and reasonably solid build even under those layers. The embroidery on the lapel suggests this pilot's surname is 'Reichert.'

Eventually, heavy gloves rise to pry off the helmet, releasing a spill of vibrantly red hair, and revealing a woman's sharp-featured face with a blue eye.

Yes, singular.

The right side is a ruin of scar tissue, and a patch covers where her right eye should be.

Seems a little counter-intuitive that one of their pilots should be missing something as important as an eye. They must be very good, or SHIELD's apathy toward such things must be higher than average.

Whatever the case, Pilot Reichert shuffles towards the cafeteria like a zombie, clutching her helmet under her arm in a gloved hand, mumbling under her breath in Russian as she goes. Probably curses. Her single-minded exhaustion, howver, suggests that she's entirely likely to carom right into somebody on her blind side — since her head is forward, basically everything on the right side of her is in a massive blind spot.

And despite the exhaustion written all over her face, her stride is one of a woman on a mission.

Agent Nakano doesn't handle downtime well. There really is so much she can do between missions with out getting too disruptive, and she usualy invents things to keep herself busy. Right now she has a small screen over her left eye, scanning the cafeteria and typing in notes into a tablet. Who knows what she's actually looking for, if anything at all.

It's that distraction that causes her to miss the pilot on a mission for food or coffee. A mix between distraction and exhaustion causes the breif collision and the tablet falls down to the floor with a thud. The short woman looks up, the screen secured over her eye flashing rapid information as she scans the room. "I didn't see you." She states, not really an apology but an explaination.

For most of the people in this outfit, downtime is a luxury that the overwhelming majority can't afford. There are too many fires that agents scramble to put out, east and west, and this woman looks like she's trudging in from the leading edge of those fires. That, or she's just logging monster flight hours out of all this.

Thanks to the patch over her right eye, the pilot completely misses the hacker headed her way. The two collide. Down goes the tablet. Down goes the visored flight helmet. Pilot Reichert is even pushed back a step or two, stumbling.

She seems about to say something, but the words die in her throat as she blinks at that screen. What the hell?

And a gloved finger points at the screen. "Hunh. Never seen one of those before." Her observation is given in such heavily-Russian-accented English that it might be hard to work the words out right away. She cocks her head, like a confused hound, and eyes Nakano. "What //is/ that?"

Right to the chase. Kindred spirits? The pilot doesn't seem to care very much about decorum.

Rin was waiting for the lecture, but when it doesn't come, she simply shrugs. When her screen is pointed at, she reaches up and taps on the side of it. "It's not standard issue." She says in a tone that suggests the next word should be yet. Leaning down she picks up the tablet, thankful for the case that's on it that keeps it from breaking. She taps on the screen a few times before she swares. "Pair you bastard." She flicks the screen and a bunch of random characters flash over it before it dings into compliance.

Turning back to the pilot her lips flash in a quick frown. "It's a screen, it helps me to see things that my useless mortal eyes can't. Such as wifi signals." Raising her hand she points to the opposite end of the cafeteria. "That corner is getting a sixy percent signal loss, because that AP." She says pointing to a flashing green light. "Is useless and needs to be replaced. By someone else." That's not her job, and finding weak signals isn't her job either, she's just bored.

The pilot stoops to recover her helmet and tucks it under an arm. Once she's straightened, she eyes the gadgets in veiled curiosity. Higher-ranked agents have been spotted using some pretty strange technology, but she's never seen anything quite like this.

Maybe it came out of Stark's basement.

"Sorry about screen." Her words are clipped, but the pilot seems to mean no animosity by it. It's just how she seems to speak. Maybe her throat was damaged, too? Her voice is certainly grizzled, but more from alcohol and cigarettes than anything else. "Just got back from shift. Too long. Turbulence. Canyons. Staying off radar. Nerves are shot. Awake, on duty, maybe twenty hours. Complications."

…Useless mortal eyes? The pilot snorts, mouth turning down. "Da." Yes. "Know about uselessness."

"Haven't seen you before." That's true of a lot of people, given how many agents are in the organiation's employ, but the pilot doesn't say that. "Agent Ya…" There's a pause. "Agent Reichert," she continues, coolly. "Can call me Isa. Waiting for someone. Can join me if you want, while waiting."

She's… already leading the way to a table, combat boots clomping across the polished floor. The pilot twists her head, calling over her shoulder; the left side, so she can glance at Agent Nakano. "Speak Russian, any…?"

"Than the next logical thing to do would be to sleep." Rin says with a shrug, though she'll follow Isa to the table and settles in on the opposite side, putting the tablet down between them. "I was in training until two years ago, and I spend a lot of time in the field. If I'm not in the field than I'm working on things here. I don't get out much. Agent Nakano, but I suppose Rin will do." She says by way of introduction.

When she's asked about languages, she gestures toward the tablet again. "I bit. Whatever I don't pick up this will for me, speak as you will." She says with a wave of her hand.

Although Isa's strides are a bit long for someone her height, it's not far enough to the table that she might lose the new agent. The pilot crumples into a chair, tilting her head back and sighing. Chairs are nice. Right now, chairs that aren't attached to turbine engines are even nicer.

"<Oh, thank God.>" It's with another sigh that Isa folds her arms over the table and lets her head drop onto them, lapsing into Russian. "<I can speak it well enough, most of the time, but I'm tired enough that English is a pain in the ass. What an obnoxious language.>"

She straightens, studying Nakano with a curious tilt of her head. The tablet is also studied, with a little more scrutiny. Those are the kinds of things that computer geeks use. Maybe she's some kind of computer geek…

"<Anyway, I'm waiting for my husband to pick me up. Not that I'm going far, but he wanted to be here when I finally got home.>" Isa waves a hand almost dismissively. "<He probably won't be here for a little while. Not too long, now. I landed a little earlier than expected.>"

She gestures with one still-gloved hand towards Nakano's paired tablet and screen. "<That's unique-looking equipment, and I haven't seen anything like it before. What exactly do you do for SHIELD? If, of course, you're at liberty to say.>" A faint, mirthless smile chases itself across the woman's scarred features. "<There's a lot of that, in this organisation. Nature of the beast. Some things are just need-to-know.>"

"<I'm a quinjet pilot, but you probably figured that out already.>" The helmet is hefted demonstratively. "<It's not as exciting as it sounds. Except when it is. Kind of like driving an ambulance. Ninety-eight percent of your day is mind-numbingly boring, and then for two percent of that day, everything's all-hands-on-deck, everything's-on-fire, move-your-ass-now.>"

Rin did need to test this new software, and so far so good. It's laggy, which annoys her, but she makes some quick notes to fix that later when she has more free time. "Indeed." Rin responds in English. The screen on the tablet splits down the center. The side facing Rin is displaying in English, while the other is displaying Russian. When Rin speeks it does translate, but it's no perfect. Slang words are replaced with litteral ones, so it seems there are more bugs to work out. "Please let me know if there are errors, I need to work on the the way it's displayed if I want to push SHIELD to allow it to be used."

Hearing about her husband doesn't seem to really interest the other agent. That's personal details that she doesn't plan on storing for later, but she will nod her head when asked about her position. "I'm a field agent. I have skills with computers, but that is not my offical title." Though her tone suggests that is all she'll say about what she does for the company.

"Your job is important, reguardless of how boring it can get. Though I hear that boring is at least safer. It's no different than being stuck in a look out point, staking out a location for reasons." Those are very boring for Rin, reguardless of what action might follow a stakeout.

"<I think it might be translating literally.>" Isa tilts her head, single eye flicking across the text printed in tidy Cyrillic. "<Some of this doesn't make much sense… I can understand what you're saying, mostly, but I think it's a little rough around the edges. It'll do for now.>"

It beats English. Her brain is too gummed up for that. "<Interesting.>" Computer stuff. Her single eye narrows, as though she were mulling something over—

"<Oh. Yes.>" Her hand reaches up to flick toward the scarrd side of her face, expression and tone of voice both somewhat deadpan. "<Less hazardous to my health, usually. I like boring and safe, but I'm afraid certain aspects of this line of work lend themselves to thrill-seeking. I like the quinjets, though. They're an interesting piece of technology…>"

Isa lifts her chin, squinting towards the doorway from whence she'd come. There's a blonde man there, looking through the crowd with an air of someone looking for someone else. "<Oh. There he is.>" She offers an apologetic and mostly exhausted half-smile to Agent Nakano. "<Sorry. I'd better go. Before I pass out, if nothing else.>"

A long look is given to Agent Nakano before the pilot half-smiles again. "<Field agent. Yes. There are very good field agents, here. I did field work for a little while, when I first joined. I still do it from time to time… but not often.>" She bobs her head in relatively polite gesture. "<I hope we meet again, Agent Nakano.>"

With that, the red-headed pilot is soon gone, cutting through the crowd towards home… and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep.

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